Bloody hell, great title for a novel. I suspect I might use that someday. But don't talk to me about teeth. Double groan ... Lord H & I had our regular tooth doctor appointment today, and this time I have to have four fillings done and they're worried about my bleeding gums. This after having no fillings last time and perfect gums. I am doing nothing differently!!! They think it might be to do with the HRT I'm on - even though I've only been on it five minutes and, really m'dears, one's boobs are no bigger than they were before. Sadly. Good to know that in the future, when I'm a hundred-and-bleeding-twenty, I shall be able to have a baby (God forbid!) but won't be able to converse with it as I shall have no teeth. Bloody big sigh, eh. Honestly, I really wish I'd booked the appointment earlier in the month, so I wouldn't have the prospect hanging over me during Christmas of having to go and have great pain inflicted on me on 4 January. It's seriously pissing me off. Really, I'm feeling quite tearful. God, I hate dentists. Big time.
Anyway, after that debacle (sorry, can't be arsed with funny accents and stuff - besides of which I won't be able to say any accents soon as my mouth will be jammed tight with cotton wool, pathetic sigh ...), Lord H and I went to look at birds in Ash (that's a place, not a concept). Lucky birds. They have no teeth. Soon we will have so much in common (am I swooning too much at this point?...). It was a pretty little place, if bloody chilly. Still, we managed to see lots of tits (of the feathered variety), 101 robins - or one very speedy robin - plus a grey wagtail (my first, hurrah!) and yet another heron in flight. Why are there so many flying herons at the moment? Is someone doing something nasty to their legs so they can't land anywhere? Seems unnecessarily cruel to me.
This afternoon, I have been typing up more of The Bones of Summer. Poor Craig - he's having a very difficult time at the moment. It would be so much better for him if it wasn't winter and he knew where his clothes were but, alas, his author won't allow him that small comfort. What a cow, eh. Lord knows why he puts up with me. He's probably sorry for my teeth (did I mention my teeth?).
However, there is surprising news for today - I've just finished reading the latest "Poetry Review" magazine and it's the first time I've closed the final pages and haven't wondered what on earth all the fuss was about. Not a bad edition really - an undercurrent of pretention here and there of course, but at that level you probably have to expect it. There were some poems I even enjoyed (Good God, Carruthers, pass me the smellings salts: the words "enjoy" and "Poetry Review" have never been in the same paragraph before). I will even go so far as to say I noted some poets and their collections down on my buying list. Particular favourites were Siriol Troup for being charmingly Japanese about WH Auden (ah, the story is in the spaces, m'dear ...), Hugo Williams for being charmingly Victorian, Nii Ayikwei Parkes for putting the people back into politics, and Jane Draycott for a wonderful scene of miscommunication. Also nice to see my old favourite, Neil Rollinson, in there. Though they were rather snippety about his latest collection, Demolition. Hey, I didn't think it was that bad. Not vintage Rollinson for sure, but not terrible!
Tonight, I shall do some cleaning and stare at my teeth in the mirror for a while. As you do. And I really must wrap up Lord H's Christmas presents or the day will come upon me unwrapped before I know it. Hmm, The Unwrapped Day - another interesting title ...
Today's nice things:
1. Birds in Ash
3. Reading some rather good poetry.